


Ghosts

by enigmaticagentscully



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticagentscully/pseuds/enigmaticagentscully
Summary: Trapped in the rubble of Tondc, Marcus Kane is saved by the last person he expected. A kabby AU fic that stems from the premise: What if Jaha had been just a few seconds too late to stop Abby from being floated in the first episode?
(cross-posted from my tumblr)





	

Marcus awoke to a world full of rubble.

There had been...an explosion. He remembered that. Fire and noise and pain, and the sickening sensation of the world falling away beneath him. He had been knocked unconscious, clearly, but for how long? There was nothing that gave him any sign; the only thing he could see in the dim light was the crumbled remains of what must have been the buildings of Tondc, pressing in from all sides. If he strained his ears he could hear faint noises – distant screams and moans coming from around and below, but no-one within sight. His leg...

His leg was trapped. He tried to move it and nearly passed out again. It took several minutes for the agony to subside into a dull steady throb of pain. At least after some effort he was able to free his arms enough to move them, although a tentative exploration of his face revealed that he was covered not only in a thick layer of dust but a wet sticky substance that felt a lot like blood. The effort involved just in that slight amount of movement had him panting for breath, his pulse hammering. He lay limp against the rubble, trying desperately to think past the pounding in his head.

“Doesn’t look good, does it?” said a nearby voice.

Startled, Marcus raised his head a few painful inches, squinting into the dim, crumbling space around him and saw—

Abby.

She was sitting a few yards away, regarding him with a kind of detached interest. Apparently unbothered by her surroundings, untouched by the thick coating of dust that covered the wreckage around her.

Marcus felt the world shift around him, a profound, nameless horror tightening in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but the words died on his lips. Abby watched him steadily as he struggled for breath, squeezing his eyes shut and open again in a futile attempt to change what he was seeing.

“You’re not real,” he croaked, finally.

Abby rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

Marcus stared at her. “Why...?”

“Because you’ve lost a lot of blood, you’ve got a hell of a concussion and you’re probably in shock,” said Abby baldly. “And because you’ve been trapped down here in the dark for hours alone.”

“Why _you?_ ”

“You tell me,” she said. “It’s _your_ subconscious, after all. Maybe because you _really_ need a doctor right now and I’m the first one that comes to mind. Maybe because you’re dying, so your mind conjured up someone who’s already dead to convince yourself it’s not the end.”

She shrugged, and leant back against the rubble, apparently totally at ease.  And it was _Abby_ , down to the last detail; the worn blue coat, the ring hanging from its chain around her neck, the braid of hair resting over her shoulder, the faint lines around her mouth, the soft, searching eyes.

Eyes fixed on him.

“Maybe you just feel guilty about what you did to me,” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

“Is Clarke still alive?”

Marcus didn’t answer. He had long since given up trying to wrench his leg from where it was pinned. He had no idea how long he’d been down here – hours at the least – and the pain was being overtaken by a kind of dizzy numbness. All he could see in the dim light filtering in from far above was rubble, no hint of a way out, no sign of anyone coming to help those trapped. Perhaps he was the only one left, and there _were_ no survivors, no rescue mission.

“So you’re just going to ignore me?”

Abby was still sitting a few yards away, watching him.

No, Abby _wasn’t_ sitting a few yards away, because Abby wasn’t there. Abby wasn’t real. Abby was...

“Did you see Clarke before the explosion happened?” she said, her voice tight with worry. “Do you know if she was hurt?”

“No,” said Marcus wearily. “I didn’t see her. Indra couldn’t find Lexa, and Clarke was with her. If they were out in the woods together, maybe they managed to avoid the worst of it.”

He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if both Clarke and Lexa had been killed. It would mean the end of the alliance between them and the Grounders, the end of any hope against the Mountain Men. _God_ he was tired. And thirsty. So thirsty his mouth felt like sandpaper.

“If she’s still alive, Clarke will come for you,” said Abby. “She’ll bring the others from camp and they’ll get you out.”

Marcus almost smiled. Considering she was all in his own head, his imaginary Abby was remarkably optimistic. Perhaps he was just unable to imagine a version of her that _wasn’t_ relentlessly hopeful, always trying to find another way out of the most impossible situations.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” he said, even though he was essentially comforting only himself. “That’s the important thing. I wouldn’t expect her to be rushing to my rescue when there are others who need help, though.”

“Because she hates you,” said Abby, without much emotion.

“Yes.”

“Did you expect anything different? You murdered her mother.”

“No, not...” he almost choked over the words in his rush to get them out. “Not murder. It wasn’t...it was a lawful execution.”

Abby raised her eyebrows. “Is that really what you believe, Marcus? Does that really help you sleep soundly at night?”

There was a silence. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” said Marcus. “You’re not real.”

“But you wish I was. You wish I was here, because I _knew_ Clarke and you don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing and she doesn’t trust you and never will. She would have trusted _me_. She would have listened to me.”

The words were said without any particular malice, but they still hit home. The truth was that Marcus couldn’t help but imagine how things might have been different if Abby Griffin were there on the ground with them. If she were there to lead their people alongside her daughter, bridging the gap between the hundred and the newly arrived, instead of being a constant unspoken source of anger and hatred.

Abby was right. It didn’t matter what his motives had been at the time; the moment he had given the order to open that airlock, he had destroyed any chance of Clarke ever accepting him as Chancellor.

“She’s a lot like you,” he said aloud, surprising himself slightly at the realisation that even keeping an unpleasant imaginary conversation going was better than lying here in the dark alone waiting to die.

“Because she’s a pain in the ass?” said Abby, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“She’s driven. Uncompromising. She puts everyone else ahead of herself. She’s desperate to save everyone and she...she’s started to learn that she has to sacrifice people in order to do that. Being down here...she’s learnt how to make the hard choices, like we had to on the Ark.”

 “I didn’t want that for her,” said Abby quietly.

“I know,” said Marcus. “I wish I could help her. I’m trying but...”

“She hates you.”

“Yes. She’s a good leader but she’s losing herself. You’re right, if you were here...maybe you could get through to her. Help her to see that there’s a better way...”

“Maybe. I never could get through to _you_.”

“You could. You did.”

“Just too late, right?”

There wasn’t much he could say to that.

“For what it’s worth,” said Abby. “I’m actually impressed you made it this far. You and Thelonius got our people down to Earth after all. And you could be doing a lot worse as Chancellor.”

Marcus shifted his head again, searching her face in the faint light for any trace of mockery.

“You’ve kept them alive so far,” said Abby. “Most of them, anyway. You’ve made peace with the Grounders. Clarke might hate you but she’s working with you anyway, which is saying something.” Abby looked amused at his obvious surprise. “You think I’m not capable of admitting when you’ve done something right?” she said. “You wound me, Marcus. We were friends once, remember?”

“It seems so long ago.”

“A lifetime ago,” Abby smirked.

There was a long silence.

“The real Abby wouldn’t have made that joke,” said Marcus.

“Maybe you didn’t know me as well as you thought.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Marcus. _Marcus._ Wake up.”

His eyes wrenched open. Abby was glaring at him from her position against the rubble, eyes glittering angrily in the dark.

“I’m awake,” he murmured.

“Good. Stay that way. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

Abby gave a soft chuckle, and for some reason the sound sent a sharp lance of pain through his chest. He wondered if it would be better to be alone after all, to die in peace. His arms felt as cold as his leg now, and he could hardly raise them.

“So, we were talking about how we used to be friends,” said Abby.

“I used to be _Jake’s_ friend,” said Marcus, forcing his mind into gear with some difficulty. “We were...we were colleagues.”

“Well, if you bicker with someone for years I think you can count them a friend,” said Abby, with a wry smile. “Come on Marcus, we knew each other for our entire lives.” She paused. “ _My_ entire life, anyway.”

“Stop it.”

“Oh come on, if you can’t joke about it, what _can_ you do?”

“I didn’t want to do it, Abby.” He meant to sound firm but it came out as more pleading. “You gave me no _choice_.”

“Because I broke the rules.”

“Yes.”

“Because I was doing everything I could to stop you from making a huge mistake that would needlessly kill hundreds of people.”

“I didn’t _know_ that.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said, her voice suddenly gentle. “You couldn’t have known. Even _I_ didn’t know for sure.”

Marcus felt a sudden flash of annoyance. “I don’t understand,” he rasped through gritted teeth. “Are you here to condemn me or...or absolve me?”

“I’m here to keep you _alive,”_ said Abby, leaning forward and smiling a bright, brittle smile. “Isn’t that ironic, Chancellor Kane?”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know,” said Abby, “there’s another reason your mind might have decided I was the one you would see down here.”

“What’s that?” said Marcus. A few words were all he could manage now. Even speaking was a colossal effort. Moving at all was out of the question, and since he could no longer even bear to raise his head, he could no longer see Abby, only hear her voice. It was amazing, how well he could remember the sound of her voice.

“Maybe you just missed me,” she said. “Admit it Marcus, you were always a bit sweet on me.”

Marcus felt his brow crease. “My mother said that,” he murmured.

“Of course. It’s not like _I_ actually thought so.” He could hear Abby grinning. “Or maybe I did, who knows? I’m just a figment of your imagination. But since I’m bringing it up now, I’m guessing _you_ know there must be some truth to it.”

“I wasn’t—”

“There’s really not a lot of point in lying to me Marcus, you realise that, right? I was a pain in your ass but I know you cared about me.”

“I _killed_ you.”

“Because you thought it was the right thing to do,” said Abby, with only a touch of sorrow in her voice. “Because you thought I was getting in the way of saving our people from destruction, and the life of one good person was a price worth paying to save everyone else.” She sighed. “Of all the reasons to do something terrible to someone you care about...that one _I_ at least can understand.”

Marcus didn’t reply. On reflection, he supposed it didn’t make a lot of difference whether he spoke aloud or not. He was so _tired._ His eyes drifted shut again.

“We really had a lot in common, didn’t we?” said Abby, her voice floating softly out of the dark.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Marcus.”_

“Leave me alone,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Please.”

“ _No._ I’m not leaving and neither are you.”

It was darker now, even the faint hint of light from far above extinguished. Day must have given way to night again, and the darkness was like a physical thing, pressing heavily on his chest. He was beyond exhaustion, drifting in and out of consciousness and aware only of Abby’s voice, anchoring him to the world.

“I know why it’s you,” he said weakly. “I know why you’re here...”

“Why?” Abby said immediately, and even half insensible he could recognise her ‘just keep the patient conscious and talking’ voice. “Why am I here Marcus? Tell me.”

“Because you _should_ have been here...it should have been _you_...you were _right_...” The appalling truth of it swept over him in a crashing wave of grief, a thousand bitter regrets so long held at bay by a fragile sense of duty, of purpose, suddenly overwhelming in their intensity. “You were _right_ ,” he choked. “I killed you and you were _right._ You were willing to _die_ , I was only willing to kill...it should have been _you_...”

“Marcus, stay with me.”

The darkness was drifting into his mind now, blurring the edges. “All those people,” he said. “I killed them all...it should have been you that lived...”

“Marcus! Hey!” Suddenly Abby was beside him, her voice almost in his ear. “That’s no good to us right now! You don’t get to give up!”

“It should have been you...”

“But it _wasn’t_. You made it down here, _you’re_ the one who survived it all, and that makes it _your damn responsibility.”_ He had never heard Abby so angry, even in life. “You don’t _get_ to wallow in guilt,” she said fiercely. “You don’t have the luxury of just walking away. You have to fight. Struggle. Suffer. Change. _Live._ You _owe_ me that, Kane!”

“It hurts.”

“It should! I _never_ got to see Earth, I never got to see my own _daughter_ again! It hurts because you’re still _alive!_ ”

Abby seized him by the shoulders suddenly, the impossible contact sending a jolt of shocked adrenaline through him. His eyes startled open.

“Hold on to that pain!” Abby snapped, glaring at him furiously, inches from his face. She was so _real_ , the only real thing in the world. She had beautiful eyes. She hadn’t shed a tear when she waited in the airlock, he remembered, just stood there, hands trembling by her sides.

“Marcus! Don’t you _dare_ let go now!”

There was a sudden movement far above, the crumbling of rock, chunks of debris tumbling down and striking him where he lay. Abby released her grip, turned away to stare upwards. Marcus could hardly see, but through the haze in his mind he heard voices filtering through, _real_ voices.

_“There’s someone alive down there! I think it’s Kane!”_

_“Someone bring a rope!”_

_“Get Jackson over here!”_

A gap had been made in the rubble up on the surface, no longer so impossibly distant, and the faint suggestion of a breeze drifted down through it, along with a new scattering of dust. Marcus felt the darkness behind his eyes recede a little. One of the voices had been familiar.

“Octavia,” he murmured.

“See?” Abby said, and when she turned back to him he saw that she was smiling, even through the tears sliding down her face. “There are at least a few people who care whether you live or die.”

She sat down beside him, looking at him fondly. “I think I have to go now, Marcus,” she said.

He should have felt something at that; relief, or sadness, or _something_ , but instead he realised that he had known the truth of it even as Abby said the words. The sounds above were getting louder, reality intruding.

“Thank you,” he managed, knowing that it was poor and inadequate, knowing that Abby was, in some fundamental way, far beyond really hearing it.

“Take care of my daughter for me,” she said softly. “Take care of our people.”

“I will.”

“Don’t screw this up.”

Marcus almost laughed at that, would have if he’d had the breath left for it. “I won’t.”

He realised there were tears running down his own face now; he could feel them leaving tracks in the dust, his eyes burning and blurring.

“I...” His throat was painfully dry, choking on the words that came out as barely more than a faint rasp. “I’m so _sorry_ , Abby. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered. There was a faint movement in the dark, and Marcus felt for a moment the soft touch of her lips pressed against his forehead. Then all at once everything was movement and pain and blinding light, falling stone and a jumble of voices. Hands lifting him away. The wind on his face once more.

“I’m so sorry...”

Figures were moving around him, someone was forcing water through his parched lips. He was outside with no clear idea of how he’d got there, lying on a stretcher. Someone was shouting. He couldn’t feel his leg. His eyes squeezed shut against the bright flare of torches.

“I’m sorry...”

His voice was lost in a swelling rush of sound, a chant rising from a hundred throats around him, unseen but furious in their conviction.

_Heda! Heda! Heda!_

Suddenly another shout cut through the clamour.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

For a dizzying moment Marcus was sure it was Abby’s voice again, somehow impossibly echoing through the night and silencing the chanting. But when he raised his head slightly off the stretcher, he saw Clarke, standing next to Lexa and surveying the rubble of Tondc with a grim expression.

“There are still people trapped down there!” she shouted, her voice carrying clear across the ruins. “They need our help. Go to work!”

Marcus felt himself slipping into unconsciousness again, his head dropping back onto the stretcher as the figures in the dark started to hurry back to shifting rubble all around him. Clarke was alive. She was going to help those still trapped, as he had known she would. He could _rest_ now...at least for a little while.

_I wish you were here with us Abby,_ he thought, as the darkness closed in around his vision. _But we’re doing the best we can._

_I think we’ll be okay._


End file.
